Andrea Kane (18 page)

“Your father was here?” Every muscle in Braden’s body tensed at Kassie’s words.

She recognized the stupidity of her revelation at once but was too exhausted to deal with it. She merely nodded against Braden’s taut shoulder. “The day after the wedding.”

“Damn it, Kassie,” he swore quietly into her soft cloud of hair, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was no purpose to it, Braden. He did no harm to me. And he has not been back since.”

Braden wanted to demand every detail of the meeting, to point out that Robert’s brand of
harm
was not always manifested in physical abuse. But given Kassie’s present state of mind, he refrained. At the same time Braden’s logic told him it was no coincidence for Kassie’s nightmare to have resurfaced on the very day she saw her father again. There had to be some connection.

Angry and frustrated, Braden tightened his arms about Kassie protectively, making a mental note to increase the number of servants that guarded the grounds and the gates of Sherburgh. He was beginning to feel very uneasy about being away for so many days.

“Sweetheart, about the dream,” he probed gently.

Kassie shook her head against the sleeve of his shirt. She was not ready to discuss it.

Braden gave a frustrated sigh. “We cannot simply ignore this, Kassandra. We have to talk about it.”

“Not tonight.”

He frowned, hearing the plea in her voice. “Then when?”

She leaned back and stared up into his magnetic hazel eyes, now dark with concern. “When you get back. I promise. Only please … not now.” She shuddered. “I can still feel it … see it … please don’t make me relive it. I don’t think I could bear it.”

He cupped her trembling face in his hands. “All right,
ma petite,
all right. We don’t have to talk about it now. But the minute I return—”

“Whatever you say,” she agreed quickly.

He stared down at her tenderly. “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered, shaking his head.

“Hold me.” She caught at his muscular forearms. “Please … just hold me.”

He drew her against him, waves of feeling tightening his chest as her small, soft body curled trustingly against his enveloping strength. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake free of the myriad emotions she aroused in him. He wanted to heal her every pain, to have her whole and free of the past, to see her light up the world with her smile.

He wanted to make love to her until neither of them could move.

And he had no idea what she wanted of him.

“You called me Kassandra.”

Her husky observation, muttered against his shirt, broke into his thoughts and made him smile. “I suppose I did.” He kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, so softly that it was barely audible.

But Braden heard it.

“I’ll miss you, too, sweetheart.”

She drew back, uncertainty in her eyes. “Will you? The way you’ve been acting lately, I thought …” Her voice trailed off.

“It seems we have a lot to discuss, you and I,” he replied, easing her back against the pillows. He saw the shadows beneath her beautiful eyes and frowned. “But tonight is not the time. You are utterly exhausted, and I have yet to finish preparations for my trip. I want you to go to sleep. When I return we’ll talk—about these nightmares of yours, about the visit from your father, about your behavior lately—”

“And yours,” she added quickly.

He nodded, smiling faintly. “And mine.”

He stood.

“Braden?” She leaned up on her elbow. “Would you just stay with me until I fall asleep … please?”

He sat back down beside her, thinking that when she looked up at him like that she could ask for the moon, and he would find a way to get it for her.

“I’ll stay,” he told her softly, “until you fall asleep.”

She raised up and brushed his lips tenderly with her own. “Thank you.” Then, like a contented child, she lay back and within minutes was fast asleep.

Braden watched her sleep, idly stroking the black cascade of hair that tumbled over her bare shoulders and down the back of her night rail. Her dark lashes, like ebony silk fans, swept the fine bones of her cheeks, making her creamy skin appear even paler in contrast. She was by far the most exquisite woman he had ever seen … and the most tantalizing embodiment of contradictions. He ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her soft, sensual mouth, feeling her deep, even breaths against his skin. He had to make some sense of these powerful feelings—and soon. Things could not continue this way; it was causing both of them too much pain.

Braden tucked the blankets tenderly beneath her chin and rose to his feet. He was so damned torn. He did not want to leave her alone, not even for a few days. But he had to go to London with Charles, for the meeting and for the auction. Besides, he reasoned, she wouldn’t be alone. Cyril had promised to look after her, and there was a whole houseful of servants to assist him. And meanwhile Braden could use this time away to evaluate his relationship with his wife objectively.

The reasoning was sound.

The uneasiness persisted.

“T
HIS IS RIDICULOUS,” KASSIE
declared, leaning back on her elbows in the cool grass. “I did not see the man for three years, and I survived. Now here he is, gone for but four days, and I am doing naught but mooning about like a fool.” Her bright eyes flashed as she regarded her silent companion. “It is not like me to behave this way. I am not at all certain that I care for the effect love has on me. I believe I was much better off when you were the only man in my life, Percy.”

At the sound of his name Percy deduced that a response was in order. He gave an affirmative yip and licked Kassie’s hand.

She stood, brushing blades of grass off of her rose-colored morning dress. “I’m glad you agree, my friend.” She gave Percy a warm hug. “And I thank you for listening. Now I must take over for myself.” She glanced off in the distance, possessed by a sudden, uneasy feeling that she was being watched. But the grounds about her were still. She frowned, a faint shiver running down her spine. It had to be her imagination.

A twig snapped, and Kassie started, gazing in the direction of the sound. She smiled, relieved, seeing a growing brown spot approaching them. “Besides, I believe that your sire has come in search of you,” she informed Percy. “So you shan’t miss me at all!”

Percy followed her gaze, then flew off in a fury of happy barking when he recognized his father. Kassie grinned, watching them trot off together, Percy gazing adoringly up at Hunter. Her pet was secure in his new life. Now it was her turn.

Thirty minutes later she appeared at the stables, determined and dressed in her riding clothes.

“Hello, Dobson,” she greeted the surprised groom. With Charles away, the duchess had not been to the stables all week.

“Uh … good mornin’, Yer Grace,” he said respectfully. “Was there somethin’ I could do for ye?”

Kassie nodded. “Yes, Dobson, there is. I would like you to saddle up Little Lady for me.”

Dobson looked uncomfortable. “But Yer Grace,” he began.

Kassie waved his protest away. “I know what you are going to say, Dobson. That Charles is away, and I shouldn’t ride without his supervision. But I assure you that I can handle Little Lady quite well by myself. So please do as I ask.”

Dobson shook his head slowly. “No, Yer Grace, what I was goin’ to say is that Little Lady is favorin’ her left side a bit.” At Kassie’s distressed look he added hastily, “It’s nothin’ serious. She stepped on a stone is all. She’ll be good as new in a day or two.”

Kassie looked relieved. “I see.” She was thoughtful for a moment, then raised her chin purposefully once more. “Then I’ll ride Star.”

Dobson’s mouth fell open. “Star?” he managed.

“Yes, Dobson, Star.”

“Excuse me for sayin’ this, Yer Grace, but ridin’ Little Lady and ridin’ Star are two different things.”

“I’m aware of that Dobson,” she answered, her tone pleasant but firm. “Now please get him.”

“But he’s not prepared for ridin’,” he tried again.

“That’s all right. I’ll wait.”

With a resigned shrug the groom disappeared into the stables.

Kassie felt very pleased and proud of herself. At last she was taking charge of her life. And she would do just fine. After all, how different could one horse be from another? Charles was an excellent teacher and had taught her well. She was sure he would applaud both her decision and her initiative.

Thirty minutes later she was not nearly so certain.

Whenever Braden rode Star the stallion appeared to be so responsive, so … controllable. With Kassie on his back he was neither. From the moment Dobson helped her mount Kassie knew she was in trouble. The skittish horse was displeased by everything: the unfamiliar hand that guided him, the tentative quality of the commands, the amateurishness of the ride. Still, Kassie bravely started out, ashamed to back down beneath Dobson’s knowing glance.

It was a mistake. Star went from annoyed to rebellious. And the more irritated the Thoroughbred became, the more unnerved Kassie grew. She knew she shouldn’t show fear, but when she hesitantly urged Star into a slow trot and the spirited mount instead broke into a fast-paced canter, all thoughts of remaining calm were forgotten, along with everything that Charles had taught her during their riding lessons.

Utterly enjoying his mischief, Star picked up speed, galloping faster and faster, his long legs flying out from under him and carrying him along at a breakneck pace until Kassie was leaning over and clinging to the stallion’s neck for dear life. What was it that made a horse stop? she thought frantically, trying to recall Charles’s words. But no spark of memory came to mind. Frantically, without forethought, she reached down and tugged at the reins with all her might.

It was the wrong thing to do.

Star whinnied his disapproval, shaking his head against the reins and rearing back on his hind legs. Unceremoniously he tossed Kassie to the ground, then streaked off toward the stables without a backward glance.

Stunned, Kassie lay dizzy and unmoving for long minutes, trying to catch her breath and get her bearings. The ground was cold and hard, but fortunately thick with grass and free of stones in the spot where she had been thrown. Slowly she sat up, gingerly moving her arms and legs to assess her bodily damage. Aside from a splitting pain in her head and many assorted aches that would undoubtedly become dark bruises, she appeared to be unharmed.

The same, however, could not be said for her attire. The rich brown riding habit was torn and ruined beyond repair and hung in shreds from one shoulder, leaving her arm bare and covered with dirt and grass stains. Her hair was littered with blades of grass and clumps of dirt, and she was certain that her face looked the same. With a rueful smile she hobbled back toward the house, her pride in the same condition as her clothing.

The elegant carriage that stood before Sherburgh’s grand entranceway was an unfamiliar one. Nevertheless Kassie felt weak with relief at its presence. Obviously Cyril was occupied with guests, which would enable Kassie to sneak quietly up to her bedchamber and repair the damage to her appearance without having to answer any questions or face further humiliation. After all, Cyril had warned her not to be overzealous in her riding—a warning she should have heeded but had not. Well, Cyril would know about it soon enough. She had no doubt that Dobson would fill the entire household in on the details of her stupidity. But by then she could at least salvage some of her dignity by appearing physically intact.

Sliding silently through the doorway, Kassie eased her way down the marble hallway and toward the stairs. Perkins was bound to be about somewhere, but Kassie knew that his fondness for her would ensure his discretion. She had only to reach the staircase and she would be safe. The library door opened suddenly.

“I do wish Braden had been here, but I’m pleased that we were able to find you at home, Cyril.” A distinguished-looking gentleman and a beautiful blond woman stepped into the hall a mere five feet from where Kassie stood frozen with embarrassment.

“I know that he’ll be sorry he missed your visit, William,” Cyril was replying as he, too, emerged from the library.

The three of them saw Kassie at the same moment.

“Kassandra?” Cyril’s tone registered shock and disbelief. “What on earth happened to you?”

Kassie wished with all her heart that the floor could swallow her up. “I took a small spill from my horse, Cyril,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m a little shaken but fine.”

She saw Cyril’s concern change to discomfort and finally censure. He cleared his throat roughly and gave a quick sideways glance at the gray-haired gentleman who stood beside him, his mouth hanging open in amazement.

“I see.” Cyril’s tone was wooden. “Well, then, I shall introduce you to our guests. This is William Devon, the Duke of Lamsborough, and his daughter, Lady Abigail Devon. His Grace is a business associate of Braden’s. Our families have been close friends for years.”

The name William Devon struck a familiar chord in Kassie’s memory. He was an important business contact of Braden’s. Evidently that importance was the cause of Cyril’s blatant disapproval of her unseemly appearance and the obvious omission of her name from the introductions. Her pride returned in a rush, along with a surge of anger and hurt.

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to meet you. Braden speaks of you often.” Kassie raised her tousled head high and stepped forward, her hand extended. “I am Braden’s wife, Kassandra.”

The older man inclined his head slightly, studying the rumpled young woman before him. So this feisty little baggage was the reason for Braden’s decision not to marry Abigail. He narrowed his eyes, carefully scrutinizing Kassie’s dirt-streaked face. Having lived for fifty years, thirty-five of which had been spent in the arms of numerous desirable women, William was not fooled by Kassie’s state of disarray. The young woman who met his gaze so candidly and directly with eyes the color of sparkling aquamarines and an innocent, natural sensuality of which she was totally unaware was a classic, unequivocal beauty.